


Cake

by The_Warden



Series: The Food Stuffs Series [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cake, Drabble Collection, Gen, Light Angst, friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1241986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Warden/pseuds/The_Warden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft can never resist a beautiful cake when he sees one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake

Victoria sponge cake with its raspberry and cream layers in the center; covered by a dusting of icing sugar on top is the quintessentially British cake. Mycroft couldn’t help but be pleased with how it stood so proudly on the cake stand in the middle of the conference room table, surrounded by glass saucers, forks, a cake knife, and server.

Mycroft stood so that he had a clear view down the long hallway and leaned back to make sure the coast was clear. A member of the Korean government was supposed to come by for a meeting, but they had called at the last minute saying they needed to reschedule. Luckily, word hadn’t gotten as far as the caterer.

The cake knife glimmered as Mycroft picked it up from the table and cut into the soft spongy layers. He carefully pulled a small piece free and set it on a glass saucer. Mycroft absently licked a little icing sugar off his knuckle before he set the cake knife down, pulled himself a chair, and picked up a fork.

The first bite, full of moist sponge cake, sweet raspberry, rich, decadent cream, and icing sugar was superb.

Mycroft felt a wave of relief wash over him as he took another bite. He had been, if he was being entirely honest with himself, feeling run-down since his conversation with Sherlock earlier that morning. The very idea that he, of all people, should sink to the utterly plebeian level of requiring a “friend” was offensive and repugnant. Mycroft’s personal life is hardly any of Sherlock’s concern.

Despite the fact that Mycroft was sitting alone, eating cake at 9:30 in the morning, the idea of "making friends" was completely odious. He thought back to his school days where he endured the inane chattering of his classmates. Mycroft smirked at the memory of the times he had made snide comments insulting their intelligence and watched their blank stares of incomprehension.

Mycroft’s stomach turned. The taste of raspberries had grown bitter and the rich cream had soured. The last thing he needed was a friend.


End file.
